


Tales of the Steward

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fourth Age, General
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2011-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short pieces concerning the seven-and-twentieth (Ruling) Steward of Gondor, as recorded by one of his grandson.</p><p>Book-verse, late Third Age - early Fourth Age Gondor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

This copy is made in Minas Tirith, in the eightieth year of the reign of King Eldarion Telcontar (IV 199)

Seeing that many people in Minas Tirith have benefitted from reading the Thain's Book, the King instructed me to gather all other records that can be found concerning the War of the Ring and the return of the King Elessar to Gondor.  In this task I have been greatly aided by Lord Barahir of Ithilien.  He was well known throughout Gondor as a master of lore and history, and as a fine storyteller.  He translated many accounts of the Elder Days and added much annotation to the Annals of the Kings, Annals of the Stewards, and the Thain's Book.

Being the grandson of the Steward Faramir and a friend of the Kings Elessar and Eldarion, he recorded many stories which are not included in the Annals or the Thain's Book.  For many years, these records have remained a personal treasure of the descendants of the Steward Faramir.  Now the King suggests that those who read these records may see many things that cannot be seen in the Annals: among the most important of these is how the Steward perceived the return of the King, and how the Stewards have remained indispensable to Gondor.  With the permission of the family of the Steward, I made an abbreviated copy of those records.

Findegil, the King's Writer


	2. Reward

Elboron was the first son of Faramir, the Steward to King Elessar.  He was twelve years old when he first learned from his tutor about the return of the King to Gondor.  His father and mother had told him many times about the War of the Ring and the return of the King, but it was then that he truly realized that his forefathers, and even his father for a brief time, had ruled Gondor.

"Father," Elboron asked, "why did you surrender Gondor to the King?"

Faramir turned to face his son.  "Surrender? Gondor was never surrendered," he answered. 

"But if you meant to ask why I surrendered my ruling authority, why I do not rule Gondor as my father and my grandsire did before me, it is because the King returned.  I am the Steward of Gondor, and all stewards took the oath to rule Gondor until the King should return."

"But my tutor told me," rejoined Elboron, "that long ago the Steward Pelendur refused the claim of King Arvedui to the crown of Gondor.  I hold the King Elessar with highest regard and loyalty, but how was his claim different than Arvedui's?"

"Do you agree that Gondor should have rejected Arvedui's claim?"  It was Faramir's custom to reply his childrens' questions with another question.

Elboron thought for a moment, and then he said, "Gondor belongs to the House of Anarion."

There was a strange expression in Faramir's face.  It was as if both joyful and sorrowful memories suddenly came back to him.  "I should not put it so," he said gravely.  "Say rather that the House of Anarion belongs to Gondor.  But remember that in the early days of Gondor, both Isildur and Anarion were her Kings.  Arvedui's claim was not without grounds.  Have you read the Annals of the Kings? There it was never stated that Isildur relinquished his royalty in Gondor.  I tend to agree with Arvedui that when Isildur departed to Arnor after Elendil fell, it was to take up the high kingship, which means that he ruled over both the Northern and Southern realms.  It is hard to believe that he intended that the realm of his father should be divided forever.

"And why should the crown not descend from father to daughter?  Not only was this acknowledged in Numenor, the Stewards later acknowledge the succession from father to daughter.  Do you know this?"

 "I do know that, Sir," answered Elboron proudly, "Denethor I was the son of Rian, daughter of Barahir.  And we are descended from the daughter of Belecthor I."

Faramir nodded.  "Morwen, daughter of Belecthor I.  You know your lessons well.  You agree with me then, and with Arvedui, that as Lady Firiel was the only surviving offspring of the King, it was right that the crown should be given to her line?"

"To her or to her son, perhaps, but not to her husband," said Elboron.

Faramir seemed pleased with his son's reply.  "In this matter I agree with you.  Had Firiel claimed the crown, or Arvedui claimed it for their son, Gondor's answer might have been different.  It is hard for the lords of Gondor to let someone from the North to rule over them: a stranger he was, though their kinsman from afar and Elendil's heir.

"In this way Aragorn's claim was different from Arvedui's: he is descended not only from Isildur, but through Firiel, he was also a descendant of Anarion.  After King Earnur left, the Council of Gondor could not find any descendant of the kings with undisputed claim to the crown.  The sons of King Ondoher died childless.  If Gondor was to have a king, we were left with two choices: to turn to the line of Firiel, daughter of Ondoher, or to acknowledge Isildur's high kingship and turn to his line.  And both choices led us to the same claimant."

To this Elboron gave no reply.  He lowered his eyes and spoke softly, "Some people said that Lord Aragorn became king because he brought a great army with him...  and after the siege, you had no strength to oppose him."

He looked up again and saw a light flashed in his father's eyes.  But when Faramir replied, it was without anger.   "I do not know from whom you heard this false account.  Did we not tell you many times about the siege and the battle at Pelennor?  The King did not come to seize Gondor as a tyrant would, Elboron.  He came to help us fight the Enemy, hopeless though it seemed.  He fought for Gondor even though there was only a little hope that we would accept him as king.

"And if the one who claimed the crown was not the rightful one, think you I would not have withstood him?  Think you I would not have defended Gondor, though he brought a mighty host, though I should pay with my life?  But not such was the case.  What great army was there?  Not more than seven thousands marched to the Black Gate, and after the battle, many of them were hurt.  Would the knights of Rohan besiege a city they had so recently defended?  Apart from the Rohirrim, it was the knights of Gondor that Aragorn led to the Black Gate.  Even then I was their Captain General.  I should not sing my own praises, but I dare say that at least the Guards of Minas Tirith and Osgiliath, and the Ithilien rangers would never fight against me."

Elboron suddenly remembered Beregond, Mablung, Anborn, and so many knights of Gondor that he knew.  _But the Captain, we mean your father, Master Elboron, can govern men and beasts.  We will follow him even under the shadow of the Black Captain_ , they once said.

"I suppose they would not, Sir," said Elboron.  A little smile was on his lips.

His father smiled, but then his face grew solemn again.  "Son, do you wish to be king?"

This surprised Elboron.  "Do I wish to be King? Not at all! I guess the stewardship is daunting enough for me.  No, I asked you these not because _I_ desire to be king. I was thinking about _you_ , Father.  You defended Gondor for so long, laboured so hard, that it seemed only right that you should get your reward.  As for Lord Aragorn ... it is true that he delivered Gondor from the siege, but that seemed too short a labour compared to yours."

Faramir laughed. "Short? Elboron, I suggest you read about Captain Thorongil.  Or better still, next time you meet Aragorn, ask him to tell you about Captain Thorongil.

"As for my reward, I am grateful that you deem me so worthy.  But Gondor is not a reward, neither for me nor Aragorn.  Gondor is not a possession, Elboron.  It was not given to the King as a reward of his labour.  Nor did it ever belong to the Steward.  The stewards and the kings were given authority to rule, to defend Gondor from any threats, to protect the remnant of the Men of Numenor.  Our reward is to see Gondor in peace."

Elboron was accustomed to his father's subtle answers, though he was not sure he fully understood them.

"One last question, Father.  Do you resent surrendering your office to the King, though you knew it was your duty?"

Faramir was silent for a while.  Finally he said, "There were a knight and his lady who had to go on a quest to a distant land.  They loved their children so, just like I and your mother love you and your brothers.  But they could not take their children on their quest, as it might prove to be a perilous journey.  So they entrusted their young children to a foster family.  Now their foster mother took a very good care of the children and came to love them as if they had been her own.

"When the knight and his lady finally returned, do you think she was sad? Or was she glad, because she loved the children, and they were reunited with those who also loved them?"

Elboron answered, "I think she would have been glad, if she truly loved them.  But surely she would have been sad that she has to part from the children, and even more so if she could not see the children anymore."

"And I can still see Gondor after the King returned, Elboron," Faramir said.  "I see Gondor in peace, Ithilien almost the beautiful realm it once was, Minas Tirith full of light, and the White Tree in flower again.  So I am glad, for I love Gondor.  I think I may go so far as to say that I love her truly."

They were silent for a while.  Then Faramir caressed his son's hairs. "Have I answered your questions, young Steward?"

"Yes, Sir.  But I still believe you would have made a great king."

Faramir laughed.  "You are indeed your mother's son! You are so keen to sing my praises.  But I would not be a king, for your mother said that she did not desire to be a queen."

***

That night, when they had retired to their chamber, Faramir recounted Elboron's questions to his wife.  Eowyn was impressed by this discourse.

"Your answers were most praiseworthy," said Eowyn.  "I have never heard anyone talked about kingship in that way."

 Faramir smiled wistfully.  "But I am not the first to think that way."

 "Do you mean someone imparted this wisdom to you?" asked Eowyn.  "Then the lore masters in Minas Tirith must be wise indeed."

 "They are wise, and I learnt from perhaps the wisest in his time," Faramir replied.  "Many years ago, another heir of another steward asked similar question on kingship to his father.  And the answer that I gave our son was mostly derived from his answer.

 "Boromir was about Elboron's age when he asked Father how many years were needed to make a steward a king.  Upon hearing Elboron's questions, I was troubled that perhaps he too is displeased that he would someday be a steward and not a king."

 "Not Elboron," said Eowyn.  "If I know anything about our son, he had these questions only because he somehow thought Aragorn supplanted you."

 Faramir laughed.  "That is precisely what he told me.  Some people say I read the hearts of men shrewdly, but when it comes to our children, you read them better!"

 Eowyn smiled with satisfaction.  Then she remembered another part of Faramir's childhood reminiscence.  "Did you say that your father answered Boromir in the same way you answered Elboron?  I know the Lord Denethor was renowned for his lore, but in the matter of kingship, he ..." 

 She did not finish her words and simply looked at her husband.

Faramir nodded.  "Yes, I know it is difficult to reconcile my account to the accounts of Father's last years.  His despair clouded his wisdom in those dark days, but Father was a wise and noble man, Eowyn.  After he answered Boromir that ten thousand years would not suffice for the Steward of Gondor to assume the throne, he instructed us not to see Gondor as ours to lord over, but rather we should see ourselves as her guardians."

For a while they looked at each other and said nothing.  It was Eowyn who break the silence.  "What a pity," she said earnestly, "that so noble a lord should be conquered by the Enemy's deception."

"In a way, perhaps it was his sacrifice as the Steward," Faramir said softly.  "He spent his whole life defending Gondor.  In the end Gondor was saved, but he was conquered."

"But even he was not wholly conquered," Eowyn countered.  "For is it not partly due to the wisdom he imparted to you that you have become a great man who could reject the Enemy's deception and could faithfully surrender his charge?  And tonight our son actually benefited from his wisdom."

Faramir remained silent for a moment, but he took Eowyn's hand and kissed it with gratitude. 

"You are right," he finally said, "he was not wholly conquered."


	3. Contentment

"My Lord Steward, may I speak with you for a while?"

Faramir stopped and turned.  He was walking out of the King's House after a supper with Aragorn and his family.  He was not surprised to find that it was Eldarion who called him.  It did not pass his notice that the young man had looked at him rather curiously several times during their meal.

"Surely, my lord.  Should we go to the tower? I thought of going there to see the stars and your company would be most welcome.  Perhaps we can even see Menelvagor."

They went through many passages and climbed up several staircases, and at last, through a little door, they came out upon a small balcony almost at the top of the Tower of Ecthelion.  From there they could see the White Tree and the fountain, the houses in the lower circles, and even faintly the homesteads in Pelennor.  Above them the stars shine brightly.

"The Swordsman is not here tonight," Eldarion remarked.

"The stars are always there," said Faramir. "It is just that we do not see them sometimes.  But the sky looks beautiful tonight, even with only a few stars visible."

Eldarion looked at him as one who is surprised with what is said.  Then he said, "You are truly a remarkable man, Uncle Faramir."

"Ah! So we are back to 'Uncle Faramir' now.  Good!  You need not tell me the reason of your sudden formality, but tell me, why do you think I am remarkable? Is it because I am easily contented by few stars?"

Eldarion smiled, but he answered with a voice as solemn as a young man of fifteen could muster, "Because you are contented in seeing the White Tree in bloom and Minas Tirith in peace, though it means surrendering your office."

"You have been reading the account of your father's coronation," said Faramir.

"I read that and the Annals of the Kings and Stewards years ago," said Eldarion, "and the way you welcome the return of the King has not left my thoughts ever since.  But recently Master Peregrin told me about your first encounter with the Ringbearers."

"You seem to like story much, Eldarion."

 "Just like you," the young man said softly.  Then he looked intently at the tall man before him.  "What you did was very noble, Sir.  To surrender your authority, after long years of labour, to a king who was so tardy in coming ... I think only a very brave man can do that."

Faramir returned his gaze. "What would you do were you in my place?" he asked.

"I would do what you did, Sir," Eldarion replied after a moment hesitation, "though perhaps with a slight resentment towards the King.  But I would not shirk my duty, and would not cling to an authority which is not mine."

" _Thus saith the King's heir_ ," said Faramir, "then I was right to be content."

That night they continued to speak of many matters.  When they were about to went back, suddenly Eldarion cried with excitement, "Look! Is that not the belt of the Swordsman?"

Faramir looked up and indeed, there were three stars shone brightly, as if they were gems set at a belt.  "Look to the left of the belt, Eldarion, and you can even see Borgil."

That night the Steward and the King's son descended the Tower of Ecthelion with contentment, but the most part of that was not due to the appearance of Menelvagor.


	4. Wishes

It was a pleasant summer night in Minas Tirith.  The White Tree looked glorious, illumined by the light from the stars above.  Its leaves danced softly as the wind passed through them.  The King and the Steward of Gondor sat side by side in a bench in the Court of the Fountain.  They were no longer in the summer of their life, and they both knew it.  For few years now the Steward had let his heir taken more and more parts of this duty.  He was still hale, of course, such was the privilege granted to his line.  Yet he knew that he did not have to wait long now to rejoin his lady, who passed away twelve years back.  He had thought that it was wise to let his heir exercised the authority that soon would pass to him.  But it was not only his son that he felt he had to prepare.  The King, who had passed the tale of eight score years, was still hale.  His strength was not what it used to be, yet they knew that he, in whom the truest blood of Numenor was to be found in that age, would most likely still have another score years, if not more.

And that means that he would have to rule with another steward at his side.  The Steward had seen how with the passing years, the King had felt the loss of his friends and lieges more and more keenly.  In the first forty years of King Elessar's reign, most of the lords of the fiefs who were present in his coronation had become old and died.  They who marched bravely under his lead to the Black Gate had one by one left to answer a higher summon.  Yet the King had not dwelled in grief.  For those years were the time of rebuilding and healing.  Many things had occupied their hearts and minds: the rebuilding of the first circle of the City, the restoration of Ithilien, the renewing of relation and trade with Dale, Erebor, and even Harad, battles with the Easterlings and rebels in Umbar, and the re-establishment of Annuminas in Arnor.

In the last forty years, Gondor and Arnor had enjoyed peace and relative prosperity.  The King and Steward were most overjoyed to see the peace which they had not dared to dream of in their shadowed youth.  Yet they felt personal losses, hitherto blunted by the pressing demands of duty, more sorely in those peaceful years.  The Steward found himself almost the last of his generation in the Council of Gondor.  The King, of course, was the last of his generation in the entire Reunited Kingdom.  They had found consolation and understanding in each other, as they felt left behind by their friends.  Imrahil, Eomer King, and even the hobbits had gone before them.   And in a little time now, the King would have to lose his Steward, the last of the Council of Gondor who had accepted his claim to the winged crown.  The Steward was not one to esteem himself higher than his worth, yet he was afraid that his passing would deal a blow to the King.  For these eighty years of labouring together had brought them close, perhaps as dear as brothers, or even as father and son.

In the recent months, the Steward had not only prepared his heir to the stewardship.  He also began to let some younger people take his other roles in relation with the King.  He wanted his King to feel as little loss as possible at the demise of his Steward.  The King had his Queen and family, yet he believed that one needs friends outside one's family circle.  He was grateful that the King would still have the company of Legolas and Gimli, but they did not reside in Minas Tirith.  So he had persuaded the King to invite two of the younger captains to join their last trip to Henneth Annun – their annual effort to relive their days as rangers.  He encouraged his grandson Barahir to converse more often with the King, particularly on the lore of the Elder Days.  The King understood the Steward's intention.  He was touched by this thoughtfulness, yet at the same time he was agitated by the fact that prompted this thoughtfulness, and by their helplessness to change this fact.

"Faramir," said the King, suddenly breaking their silence.  There was a sigh before he continued, "could you not stay for a while longer?"

 The Steward was leaving for his home in Ithilien in the morrow, yet they both knew that the King did not refer to this present leaving.  He turned to look at the King, and in his eyes there was the light of knowledge and love that had never dimmed since the first time he beheld his King.

"My lord, you know I could not," he spoke softly, "and would not."  The King's wish warmed his heart, and his inability to fulfil it saddened him. 

"But if you wish it, Aragorn, when I sense that my time was close, I would come hither for the last time.  I have given it much thought, and I would like to spend my last days in this city."

The King smiled grimly.  "I do wish it."

They returned to their silence.  After a while, they walked back to their residences.

***

Two months later, the Steward Faramir, first Prince of Ithilien, returned to Minas Tirith.  He would not leave it again as a living man.  He came to preside over the annual great assembly of the Council of Gondor.  In the last three years, he had let his eldest son preside over the assembly while he sat and observed.  But that year he said that he had to preside.  The assembly lasted for a month, and afterward the Steward stayed for another two months, before he bade farewell to his children and grandchildren, his beloved City, and his King.  The King reigned for another eight and thirty years after the Steward's passing.


	5. Kind Words

As soon as the Council was dismissed, Faramir left the hall. He did not say a word to his father, nor to anyone else. He strode in a terrifying pace to his private chamber. All who saw him were amazed, for the Lord Faramir was known to be gentle in bearing. But those who had been in the Council that morning were not amazed. Indeed, if there was something that amazed them, it was that Faramir could have stayed in the Council after the bitter words he exchanged with his father the Steward.

Now Faramir has reached his chamber. He closed the door behind him, sat in a chair and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. Again he took another deep breath. And another one. It had taken all his self control to stay in the Council and not storm out after his father last words.

It was not his father insisting on the almost desperate attempt to defend Osgiliath that embittered and angered him. Nay! He knew his duty as a Captain of Gondor. He had always been prepared to die in defence of his city and its people. And the Steward's decision to defend Osgiliath was not entirely unwise. Faramir himself had considered this course the day before. As his father, he too was loath to yield the River and the Pelennor unfought. Anduin, the Great River or Gondor! The river would always be dear to him for many reasons, not least because it gave him a last glimpse of Boromir. Yet at the end he decided against it. For this was not the time to listen to pride or memory. They barely had enough strength to defend Minas Tirith, let alone to man the outposts. But he could understand why his father insisted to defend Osgiliath. It is an unenviable task to be the lord of a dwindling realm, and these recent years had been hard on the Steward. It would be unbearable to him to lose any part of his charge.

It was not, either, the Steward choosing him for this perilous venture that embittered him. Deep beneath his anger, sadness and bitterness, he was proud of his father for choosing his own son instead of commanding other captains. _For what a cruel lord is he who spends his servants but spares his sons!_ Faramir sighed. The Steward did not openly choose him. It was Faramir himself that offered to go to Osgiliath. Yet he could not have failed to comprehend his father intention. Not after his remarks on Boromir and courage.

It was not the fact that he was sent that angered him so. It was the way his father parted with him, and his belief that Faramir lacks courage to defend his city. Faramir was not sure which of these angered him most. He was hurt that his father seemed to have no sorrows at the thought of losing him. He always knew which son his father favoured most and he had learnt to accept it. And it was not unexpected that one who had lost his most beloved son would feel less sorrow at the lost of his other sons. It was not unexpected, yet it hurt all the same.

And courage! How could his father, or anyone for that matter, accuse him of lacking courage? He had encountered the black riders few times, stood against their shadow, and he was still ready to fight them again. Were there other Captains of Gondor who could boast so? And he had rejected the lure of the One Ring. Was there anyone who could boast so?

Faramir opened his eyes and shook his head. He was startled by his own thoughts. In a wretched state indeed was he if he started singing his own praise. _Enough of these thoughts_ , he said resolutely in his heart. There was no time to lose now. He had to make ready, and he had to gather his men. He resolved that he would not command anyone, but would only take those who are willing. And he would not taunt them with the mention of courage.

He was just going to ring for his squire when he heard footsteps approaching his door. Soon there was a knock at the door.

"I bring some clean raiments, my lord," a servant announced herself.

"Enter," said Faramir. He did not want to see anyone, but he might as well ask this servant to send for his squire.

The servant put the raiments in the ornate chest at the corner of the chamber. But one tunic she put on the bed.

_So she knows that I am going forth again_ , Faramir thought, _news spreads quickly in the Citadel_.

"You may put all the tunics in the chest," said Faramir. "I would not need a new one today." _Or indeed, ever again_ , he was tempted to say. But he restrained himself.

The servant took the tunic from the bed but she did not move nor say anything for a moment. Then she said, "Forgive my asking, my lord, but would you not change to a clean tunic for your journey?"

"I said I would not," said Faramir, his voice slightly rising. In Gondor a servant does not question her master's order.

"But this is your newest tunic and I have just pressed it this morning," she said, "and forgive my boldness, my lord, but I heard you are riding to Osgiliath."

Then her face blushed red and she lowered her face. But Faramir had caught her meaning.

"And you think that one must wear one's best to meet death?" he asked.

She lifted her face, "My lord, I would not hope death for you! I ... "

"Worry not!" said Faramir gently, "I know what you mean. You do not wish death for me, but you know that Osgiliath is dangerous and this might be my last battle."

She looked at him as if in awe, then she nodded. Faramir looked at her closely. She seemed very young, she could not be more than fifteen. And she looked so dejected and sad.

"Are you a new servant?" asked Faramir.

"I have been here for only six months, my lord. And this morning was the first time Mistress Saerwen let me press your raiments," she said with an evident pride. "But they said you are going to Osgiliath and may not return," she added sadly. Then she seemed to realize that again she had spoken unseemly, and she blushed even more.

The Lord Faramir could read much more than what one put into words, and what he read in this young maid-servant touched his heart. O, if it is for the safety of such as her that he should fall in Osgiliath, he would not count it a vain death.

"Very well, child," said Faramir, "I will wear the tunic that you prepared with your tender fingers and heart. And I will count it an honour to march and even to die in such raiment."

She smiled and her face lit up. Those who saw her then would think that she had just been granted a great prize.

"You may go," said Faramir. "Ask Targil to see me and bring my armour."

"Aye, my lord," she said. She stood silently for a moment, as if afraid to again speak improperly. But finally she said earnestly, "Ride safe, my lord. I hope you will return soon."

To the surprise of them both, suddenly Faramir's eyes were wet and tears trickled down his cheeks. What a strange thing a human heart is! Neither rough battles nor the black shadows, nor bitter words, nor contempts, had reduced Faramir to tears. But now he wept upon hearing her kind words.

The servant girl looked frightened. Faramir smiled and said, "You worry too much. Go now! I will try my best to return."

She bowed and hastily left the chamber. To her credit, no tale of their conversation had ever spread in the Citadel.

* * *

_Barahir's note:_

_Those of my esteemed readers who had read the history of Gondor surely know that the Lord Faramir did return. He was near death when he reached Minas Tirith again, for he and his men were assailed by large regiments of Haradrim led by the Black Captain of Minas Morgul, but the King Elessar healed him. When he and the Lady Eowyn made their home in Emyn Arnen as the Prince and Lady of Ithilien, the maid-servant in this tale found to her great delight that she was assigned to go there at their service._


End file.
